


Dusphoros

by halsyg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Dedue, Trans Dimitri, Trans Male Character, this is basically just a big projection fic so a lot of this is just. ooga booga self loathing, tw: dysphoria | self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halsyg/pseuds/halsyg
Summary: Dedue takes time alone to reflect on what he is.





	Dusphoros

Night cast its stifling gaze across the studded cliffs of Fódlan, swift as the winter chill that accompanied the dawning season. Swift was the deployment and setup of their temporary encampment, for the march must halt in the shadows, primed to continue only by the daylight’s turning guise. To deem their setup efficient did their duty no justice. Describing it as such would be a grave disservice to the elite legion of tent constructors that had cropped up within the army’s time of need. With nary a word from Byleth, they had sprung to action.

Dedue found himself marveling at the craftsmanship. Each stake, driven into the frozen ground with gusto. Each knot, tied immaculately - ornately, even. It was the small things like this that made him feel happy. Not fortunes, not fame, not glory; merely the small, often times overlooked things. The first autumnal leaf, a flower blossoming amidst a muddied marching path…

He allowed himself a rare smile.

* * *

As he pushed through the curtains of his tent, armor was doffed and lain by the smoldering ashes in the center of their camp, remnants of the fire that once burned with passion for all to behold. It lay buffeted by the hail throughout the passing night, as though a miniature orchestra of timpanis had descended upon them. Each gentle plink melded with the sizzling cinders and howling gale, providing an anomalous ambiance for the evening. With such a peacefully dissonant melody ringing through the air, Dedue figured it would be quite an opportune time to catch up on a book he had begun, yet never finished. He traveled with it at his side, though unfortunately he found that with each passing battle, the war permitted him less and less time to indulge in such a hobby.

In preparation for relaxation, Dedue began the meticulous process of organizing his temporary living space. Bedroll unfurled and set to the leftmost corner, two blankets placed folded at its foot. Disentangling the tight band from his silver locks, he deposited it into the deepest recesses of his pack, nestled alongside the book he planned to read later. Order and progress, step by step by dictated step. He became fixated on unpacking, transporting, arranging, and he knew damn well that he would gain just as much enjoyment from re-packing his supplies in the coming morning.  
  
His routine was almost at its end. As the finishing touch to turn the tent into something resembling a home, he retrieved the lantern from his pack, struck up a match and lit the wick… Burning his fingers as he all too often did.

With an empty gaze towards his scorched fingertips, he sighed; saddened, mournful. Among the various welts and scars that mingled upon his hands, a new burn would find its place quite easily. Delicate actions were never quite his strong suit. He had bid an early farewell to one too many delicate plants with his large hands and lack of refined fine motor skills. Were he given one wish, Dedue would most certainly request a more steady hand (‘t’was all thought in hypotheticals, of course; that was a selfish desire. His priority was his liege, and he would give anything - including his own wish - to see him rid of that which plagues him from within his mind. No man should suffer as he did.)

Time had come and gone, leaving him with a cozy abode - or at least a residence as cozy as a few blankets atop slow-laden cliffs could be. He was alone in that moment. Fully, truly alone.

Time stilled; time stopped.

A dull pang resonated within his chest, one that became all too familiar throughout the years. Within the composed solitude of his self-fabricated haven, doubtful hands laced between shirt and skin. The tight garment that compressed and restricted was lifted away, warm skin splayed bare against the stinging cold of winter’s judgement.

And, perhaps, judgement of Dedue’s own making.

Respite, immediate and as sharp as the deepest inhalation of air a man could fathom; revulsion, stinging like one’s own lungs pierced by rib and collapsing upon themselves. Regardless of how he gazed at himself, how strongly he scrutinized and picked himself apart shred by shred, he could not bring himself to see his broken body as anything good. Built with all the wrong parts and sculpted in the image of that which Dedue knew he was not, but that which he knew he was confined to. Words could not begin to describe the disconnect of body and mind, yet feelings could. It felt terrible. He was wrong, he was wrong and he didn’t know how to fix himself.

A man of Duscur, born incomplete. He cursed whichever gods had built him this way, yet still prayed that they would one day correct their mistake. For now, he was tasked with correcting their mistakes by hand.

There he sat, self-made man of Duscur, disjointed at every hinge.

It was an arduous process. Some days, he could barely take it. He learned to bask in silence to save himself from the discomfort of his voice. He mutilated his body in an attempt to gain some form of comfort, yet was rebuilt with that which he had tried to discard. Even as magic advanced and began to shape his exterior into something more akin to his interior, he remained displeased. Perhaps the disarticulation he felt would never leave him.

He sat, and he stared; Dedue’s foreign reflection stared back from the ice below him, hollow.

For the first time in what must have been years, Dedue began to cry.

At first, his tears fell silently; initially, he was not even aware that his emotions had begun to flow over the dam he built within. Tear after tear after silent tear fell, harmonizing with the now deafening dent of hail just beyond the tent’s walls. Then, they fell bitterly, stinging as they tore down his cheeks. A grimace and a silent shudder; Dedue cradled his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, as he made a vain attempt to take up as little space as possible. Trembling, sobbing, alone in his world. None knew his pain; none ever would. None ever could.

* * *

  
Time.  
Everything took time in life.

From seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, they all ebbed and flowed upon the continuum of time. For flowers to bloom, it took time. For the sun to set, it took time. For one to be comfortable with themselves, it takes time and time again… No sum of time would allow his mind to be at peace with his body. Yet more time must pass, he assumed, when becoming comfortable with another being.

Perhaps 15 minutes had passed, or perhaps two hours; he knew not. He remained still, sobbing bitter tears of longing and desire. Though painful, it was far easier to bare oneself to the scrutiny of time while alone.  
...yet still, the gods could not even allow him that.

_“...Dedue? Is everything alright?”_

  
Without a shred of doubt in his mind, he was at ease when in the company of Dimitri; Warm smiles would melt away any fears that froze him, fleeting touches would give him power when he needed it most, the eyes that cut straight through his self-imposed bindings shone with the very same light that allowed him a second chance… and within that light, he basked. Eternally devoted was he, bound to the one man who saw him as something worthwhile.

The one man who saw it fit to share his time.

The years they had spent together were worth more than anything. They were priceless. Those gazing in from beyond the perimeter would see the unwavering loyalty of a retainer to his liege, and little else… but from within, it was mutual respect, it was adoration, it was years upon years of trust; it existed between the honeyed words shared in wartime silence and the shouted pleas through the dark for a return to normalcy. It was time spent, time shared, time sojourn.

Despite their time, despite their bonds, in this moment, Dedue did not wish to share anything with him. If Dimitri saw him in this state, in his anguish and torment, in his true self bared to the world, he would…

_“...I am… Fine.”_ he muttered, ice and bile rising, choking out any and all chances he once had of arguing the point he made. Fear, an emotion as raw and instinctual as any, drilled into the furthest recesses of his body. He could not move. He could not run, or flee, or shield his Highness from the monstrosity sulking a mere woolen flap away.

_“Dedue, with all due respect, that is clearly a lie. I have been listening to you cry for an hour now, and I would not feel right leaving you alone in such a state. I am coming in.”_

The lion seemingly roars, despite uttering little more than a mewl. Within the canvas walls of the tent, everything seems so tight; the draft becomes a heavy breath down his neck, the cool midnight air, ice that crystallizes through his veins. With little more than a shift of a hand, Dimitri entered, and froze in his tracks.

_“...Oh… Oh, Dedue…”_

Overwhelming shame boiled over Dedue as he sat hunched before his Highness, melting the ice that shackled him to the spot, instead filling his veins with anguish that weighed upon him. Like lead in the pit of his gut, like the noose slipping tighter and tighter around his neck as the ground caved in below him.

_“...I am… I am so, so… sorry, your Highness.”_

  
It was over.

  
_“...Dedue, were you…”_

  
It was all over.

  
_“...I am sorry...”_

  
Everything he had worked for.

  
_“Please, don’t…”_

  
Everything he sought to hide.

  
_“I am so sorry, your Highness.”_

  
Everything was gone.

  
_“No… no, Dedue, I - I am not upset. I could never be upset. Not with you. So please, stop apologizing.” _

  
This was it.

_“...”_

This was the end. Outed with the stinging nettle of icy spiked through his heart. Each and every vine he had cultivated was now culled, each rose now withered, for who could bear to stand beside a man such as he? Who could associate with such an amalgamation of mistaken, scrapped parts? It spills out of him through tears of sorrow. Pain, hatred, loathing, the feeling of being deceived and lied to for years on end. He could only imagine what Dimitri was feeling at the moment.

...Those eyes, those piercing, stunning blue eyes. They were so easy to read.

He knelt on the ground before Dedue. Dimitri’s warm embrace enveloped him, melting the icy nettles that grasped his racing heart. A hand grazed across the marred skin of Dedue’s knuckles, guiding him forth, ushering him towards revelations.

It takes time to forge these bonds. It takes time, it takes and takes and takes, never leaving room to breathe until it is too late, and time comes face to face with the looming shadow of a secret kept safe within the wrought-iron bars of his chest; his being, his soul.

…And with due time, you come to learn that he has been keeping the very same secret.

* * *

Fingers brushed against tightly bound bandages. Were he in a less sordid state, Dedue would have perhaps chastised Dimitri for his unsafe binding habits.

A spark; something that had always run beneath the surface had now been gnited. A shared fear, now a shared camaraderie. The ever-growing set of steel-bound layers that tied them now fell away as layers of cloth, two souls laid bare to the world. They were the same, in a world that was different.

Two mismatched souls now possessed one shared heart.

Dedue set eyes upon himself with destructive fervour due to how he was built… But when his eyes were set upon Dimtri, mismatched silhouette cast in dulcet cream and warm shadows, ‘t’was a portrait of perfection. Milky ivory tones and stark tinges of midnight cascading through each ripple, each curve, every piece desired, not detested.

He was a man brave enough to be a man.

It is a strange thing, introspection; how one may tear themselves down over something they build another up for. Though, that was all Dedue knew. He clawed at himself with a fury unmatched by any, using each and every bit of him to place what he deemed worthy upon a pedestal, regardless of how much blood he lost in the process. They were one. They were the same. And yet still, Dedue saw beauty in Dimitri where he saw shame in himself.

Dimitri knew the thoughts racing through Dedue’s head as though they were his own. Silently, he quelled his fears between shared breath and gentle kisses pressed against each inch of skin that Dedue loathed.

Kindling flames that have been doused with a deluge of water is difficult, yet with enough patience, one may dry the lumber - stoke the flame to life from smouldering ash, to a roaring blaze.

It takes time; and beneath the cold winter sky, a new star shines.

Together, time is all they have. 

**Author's Note:**

> dedue voice : bro i am j. i am just sitting here
> 
> official dimidue discord server - https://discordapp.com/invite/SqhSNNn


End file.
